


Boxing Day

by klutzy34



Series: Jersey Skills [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Boxing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy34/pseuds/klutzy34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't help but watch the way Danny moves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxing Day

_Enchanted_ was not a word that Steve McGarrett used lightly. Despite belief otherwise, Steve had an appreciation for certain words that held heavier meaning for him, words that had to earn the right to be given voice and _enchanted_ was one. It spoke of something that seemed strangely detached from the world he knew, holding him still as the scene unfolded around him, as if any movement would make it stop, cease to exist.

The last time he used the word, Catherine danced bare foot in the sand, arms flung out to her sides, head tilted back as she spun and spun, the sunset behind her illuminating her dark locks and Steve hadn’t dared move until she fell across his feet, dizzy and laughing.

It faintly struck him how different that moment was from this one, but how they each held him still in their own, unique way befitting the person who left their mark of claim on his heart.

In the moonlight that illuminated the small backyard leading down to his private stretch of beach, Danny raised his fists near his head, left foot forward. The only thing he wore was the pair of shorts he’d climbed into bed with, feet bare, hair a wild, wavy mess having naturally dried out of the joint shower. He remained completely oblivious to Steve silently hovering in the shadows of the lanai’s doors. Steve knew he wouldn’t see him, not when Danny’s mind was so wrapped up in the demons that drove him from sleep that night.

He noticed the first time Danny did it, not long after they moved in together. Neither of them cuddled so much as sprawled, regardless of whether or not they’d been intimate, arms and legs either entangling, thrown over one another possessively, or simply taking up what they regarded as their territory, which occasionally led to encroachment. Neither one slept that deeply but Steve simply laid there that first time and when Danny didn’t return for a while, he slipped out of bed to find him, concerned.

And he’d found him like this. Since then, if Danny took time returning, Steve would slip out of bed and take up his usual position out of sight, simply watching the way his partner moved. That Danny boxed - or had boxed - came as no surprise to Steve, not when the evidence began to mount up long before they were together. It was the charity calender picture, in a boxing gym of all places, the way Danny held himself when he threw a punch, his adamant defense of the sport and the way he became completely enraptured when it was on, to the point that Kono would lovingly lightly blow behind his ear and remind him he was out drinking with friends.

Steve was _enchanted_ by the graceful movements, the way Danny seemed so sure and competent, the faint moonlight giving him enough to see the look of focus tinged by frustration and sadness at whatever dogged him. Danny liked to say that Steve moved like a deadly ballerina, silent like a ninja but movements so smooth that they were, in a way, like a dance that could permanently maim or kill. Danny’s movements weren’t like that, but quick and fast, always on the move, rebounding, ducking, dodging.

This time he moved, the combo grew faster, harder, angrier. Two jabs, a cross, an uppercut, followed by a hook and another cross. Once he reached the end, he would return to his original position, reset his feet, then he would start again, the repetition apparently soothing as the tightness visible beside his eyes and mouth began to slowly relax. Again. Again. Again. Each time, just as sure, just as focused as the last. Watching Danny’s fists, Steve thought of the strength behind them, hitting focus bags he held, the two of them the only ones alone in the gym. 

That focused look from a better view, Danny’s skin glistening with sweat, the muscles in his shoulders and arms working with every strike against the bag. When those fantasies began to surface, Steve would turn away and return to bed before they got the better of him. As tempting as they were, the quiet moment was Danny’s and he didn’t dare intrude.

Not long after he slipped into bed, he would feign sleep as Danny returned and quietly slid under the sheet, curling up on his side of the bed with faintly damp skin that came from a tough exorcism of demons.

\---------

The gym was silent when Steve pushed through the doors, the lights in the rafters chasing away the darkness from outside and creating spotlights on bags, equipment, and a worn but sturdy ring off to his left. No one around, he pulled his phone to check the text again, leaving him open to the pair of gloves that thumped against his chest.

Danny leaned against the doorway of the locker room, dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt, arms casually crossed as he eyed Steve with an expression reminiscent of the cat that ate the canary. “Ellie and I were talking boxing today,” he stated, motioning to the ring lightly with a hand, “and she happened to mention the last time you two boxed, she was impressed with your skills.”

Juggling the gloves into submission, Steve slid the phone into his back pocket. “So what, you called me here for tips?” He couldn’t help it; the tease came with an affectionate smirk and Danny rolled his eyes, sighing heavily.

“No, you animal, I thought maybe you might join me for once instead of lurking in the darkness like Nosferatu with a tan,” he replied, turning to push the locker room door open behind him. “So I brought your things, by the way. Since you always seem to put your things in my car and never your truck, that part was fairly easy to sneak past.”

Steve’s jaw dropped slightly. “I am not - you do know who Nosferatu is, right?” So sue him, he was a little offended at being compared to a vampire with a nasty fanged overview and bulging eyes. Not that Danny knew he was there the entire time, or turned it around to ensnare him, or even that his fantasy might be coming true, but that comparison.

Danny gave him a dry look. “Point,” he said, holding up his hand, then moving it over his head with a whistle. _Point missed, Steven._ “Now, would you please go change as I only managed to convince my buddy to hold the gym until eleven and since I skipped training this evening in favor of duking it out with you, I’m feeling a little antsy.” 

Steve gave him a loose salute as he headed for the propped open door, Danny swatting him hard on the rump as he passed. As the door shut behind him, Steve eyed the gym bag sitting on the locker room bench and finally allowed himself to grin, eyes alight with excitement.

\------

The thing Steve discovered about his fantasies was that when they ceased to be controlled by him and became a reality with the other person involved, expectation was usually exceeded and it never went as planned. This time, there were no focus bags for him to hold, donning the padded headgear as he and Danny circled each other in the ring.

Danny was fast, fast and nimble, proving Steve right that there was definitely training there as he moved in to land a blow and then spun, duck, dodged away. Steve landed a few of his own, but he admired how vastly different their styles were. His came from a place of military training, Danny’s from a side street gym in Jersey where someone cultivated his style from his own unique way of moving. That focus was still there but now it came with an air of fierce determination edged with sass that was all Williams.

When they finally called it a draw, Steve was soaked through and through, his shirt clinging to his body, breath coming a little faster from exertion. Danny unhooked the headgear, tossing it aside before focusing on his gloves. In a fluid motion, they dropped to the ring’s floor and he stepped over them, hand sliding behind Steve’s neck and pulling him down for a needing, sweet kiss that left him even more breathless.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Danny admitted and it took Steve’s brain a moment to catch up, realizing he meant the sparring session, not the kiss. They kissed plenty and Steve was sure there was no lacking in that area. He pulled off his own glove, mirroring Danny’s movements to pull him back for another kiss. It was then Danny started laughing against his lips and Steve drew back, looking affronted. 

“What?” he demanded, using the time to pull off his other glove and undo his headgear. Danny pointed low with a grin.

“A good fight _does_ turn you on. I knew it,” he stated, still chuckling. “Not that I mind in the least because a post-fight rumble would certainly be...enticing, but I still knew it.” Steve’s heartbeat picked up a few notches at the smile gave him, bright and affectionate and loving and full of humor. Those smiles were rare from Danny, the weight of the world usually riding so heavy on their shoulders that those inner smiles rarely made appearances on his or the rest of the team’s faces. But they still existed and there was proof.

Then his gaze dropped and Steve snorted. “Hypocrite,” he joked, motioning to the front of Danny’s shorts, clearly betraying his own interest as well. Danny glanced down, then easily shrugged his shoulders, entirely unashamed.

“I’ve never claimed not to enjoy a good fight with the right person,” he replied, tilting his head up with a challenging look Steve knew usually lead to a healthy little debate between the two of them, for the sake of comfortably combating verbally. The smile became a little softer and he moved close to Stve again, standing a little taller on his toes for his lips to reach his ear.

“Why do you think I’ve been picking fights with you since the day we met?”


End file.
